


Whose heaven is like ironsides

by Tenillypo



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Force Ghost(s), Gen, Knight Anakin Skywalker, Minor Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, POV Anakin Skywalker, POV Darth Vader, Padawan Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21978967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenillypo/pseuds/Tenillypo
Summary: "The temple has been my home for as long as I can remember," Obi-Wan said, placing a warm hand on Anakin’s shoulder. "And now it is yours as well."But it did not feel like home.(Or five times Anakin looked for home and one time he actually found it.)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, The Force & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Whose heaven is like ironsides

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Bob Dylan's "I Pity the Poor Immigrant".
> 
> _I pity the poor immigrant  
>  Who wishes he would’ve stayed home  
> Who uses all his power to do evil  
> But in the end is always left so alone_
> 
> _\- "I Pity the Poor Immigrant"_

"The temple has been my home for as long as I can remember," Obi-Wan said, placing a warm hand on Anakin’s shoulder. "And now it is yours as well."

But it did not feel like home. Home was heat and dust and oil and his mother’s voice calling him in at the end of the day. The temple was beautiful but sterile; empty and cold. Anakin felt very small walking down the echoing corridors with ceilings so high you could fly a starfighter down them. He felt very alone without the comforting knowledge that Padmé and Qui-Gon were somewhere close by.

* * *

Obi-Wan was a better master than Watto, Anakin decided. But he was also sometimes a much harder one.

"Better, Anakin. Now tell me how you can improve that last kata." His master sat on one of the many stone benches surrounding the practice yard, legs crossed casually, one hand resting underneath his chin as he watched Anakin’s exercises with the practice 'saber.

Anakin wiped a hand across his brow, panting. The mid-day Coruscant sun was nothing compared to the heat of Tatooine. But he was not accustomed to the sustained physical activity of the training exercises. When Obi-Wan had patiently demonstrated them, _he_ hadn't broken a sweat. 

Normally, padawans Anakin's age would train together, but Obi-Wan had decided that private instruction was necessary to make up for Anakin's lack of prior knowledge. Anakin didn't mind; the few times he'd joined the youngling classes, he'd felt very out of place among the much younger children who matched his experience level and even more out of place among his peers, who all knew one another and—more importantly—knew how to be proper padawans. They never seemed to have the questions Anakin did, and looked askance when he interrupted lessons to ask his, reasonable as they always seemed to him.

Like the one that had been weighing on on him for a while now. "Don't you ever do anything fun around here?" it finally burst out of him.

Obi-Wan wore a startled expression. "Fun," he repeated, sounding for all the world as though he'd never heard the word before.

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fun. You know, stuff you do because you want to, not because you have to? _Fun_."

"My commitment to the Jedi is sacrosanct, Anakin. There is nothing I would rather be doing than fulfilling my duties here."

Anakin turned his most skeptical expression on him. "Nothing?" Obi-Wan gazed back solemnly, but after a moment Anakin detected a telltale twitch in his lips. "You're making fun of me!" he accused.

Obi-Wan broke into a small smile. "Of course not. And what kind of fun would you suggest, my very serious padawan?"

Anakin had a moment to pause to consider the question. He hadn't actually expected Obi-Wan to be so obliging. "Back home, I'd work on Threepio for fun. Or sneak into the races," he said, and immediately wished he hadn't. Thinking of Threepio and the races made him think about his mother and of Padmé, and then he just missed them all even more. 

"Indeed," Obi-Wan said, tapping a finger against his lips thoughtfully. "And were you very good at sneaking?"

"Yes," Anakin said honestly. Slaves were naturally invisible, but he'd always had an extra special knack for slipping into places unseen. Obi-Wan would probably call that the Force. Anakin just called it paying attention.

Obi-Wan was still wearing that thoughtful look, and Anakin braced himself to be scolded for rule breaking. But all he said was, "You know, there are times when it is useful for a Jedi not to be seen," and Anakin perked up, sensing this might be going someplace interesting—even if there was a catch. With Obi-Wan, there was almost always a catch. "Yes," Obi-Wan said finally. "I think it's time we work on your focus and concentration." 

Ah, there it was.

Shortly thereafter, Anakin found himself spending the afternoon in the most intense game of hide and seek he'd ever played. The rules were simple: he had the entire temple—barring private quarters and forbidden areas—in which to hide himself while Obi-Wan searched for him. He could hide in one place or keep moving as much as he chose. But he must stay out of sight, lest others be able to guide Obi-Wan to him. And he must mask his signature in the Force, blending it into those around him, or Obi-Wan wouldn't need any help at all to zero right in on him. 

If Obi-Wan found him, then Anakin would have to search for him next, a prospect that his master assured him would be _much_ more difficult. But if Anakin could stay hidden until dinner, then he would win.

Anakin very much wanted to win.

The first hour went well. Obi-Wan gave him a ten minute head start, and Anakin used it to put as much distance between them as he could before hunkering down. There were plenty of other people around, but not enough that he couldn't avoid most of them by moving strategically around columns and corners. He sensed Obi-Wan a few times without seeing him—which meant he was very close, indeed. Anakin hadn't mastered distances yet, no matter how often Obi-Wan told him that distance made no difference in the Force. 

But after that, the close calls started coming more and more frequently. Anakin was skulking through the archives when he turned a corner and found Obi-Wan speaking quietly with Jocasta Nu, not twenty feet away in the middle of the rotunda. He beat a hasty retreat back into the stacks of the Third Hall and ducked around a corner and under a table, closing his eyes and concentrating on blending his life force with his surroundings.

"What's this?" a familiar voice interrupted his concentration. "A strange table leg, I see. Not want me to notice it, it does."

Anakin winced and opened his eyes. Master Yoda stood peering at him, at eye level with his hiding place. He hadn't spoken much to the old master since returning from Naboo, although he'd frequently seen him surrounded by groups of adoring younglings. In fact, all the other padawans loved Yoda—probably, he thought with no small bitterness, because _they_ had never had to stand in front of the entire council and hear him pronounce them unworthy of being a Jedi. 

"Hiding from Obi-Wan, you are, hmm?" Yoda said knowingly.

"I'm supposed to be," Anakin said quickly, trying to suppress a defiant glare. "He has to find me."

And now Obi-Wan definitely would, he thought glumly. There was no way Yoda would be able to resist pointing him right at Anakin, the better to illustrate his failure as a padawan.

But all Yoda said was, "A comfortable place to sit, this looks. Join you, may I, for a little while?" Anakin nodded warily, and watched as he stepped underneath the table and plopped down next to him. "Very good at this game, Obi-Wan was, as a padawan." Yoda leaned in conspiratorially. "But never catch me, could he."

Anakin blinked, intrigued in spite of himself. He had tried to picture Obi-Wan as a child many times, but could never quite manage anything other than an image of his master exactly as he was now, but shorter—as though he'd sprung into existence as a tiny, overly serious adult. 

As if summoned by his thoughts, Obi-Wan suddenly appeared at the entrance of the hall. Anakin froze, eyes widening. It was dark in their corner, a good distance away from where he stood, but if he came close enough he would surely see them.

Should he make a run for it? He glanced at Yoda, who folded his hands over the cane in his lap, looking as calm and serene as ever. He gave Anakin a significant look and then closed his eyes, breathing slow and steady. After a split-second's hesitation, Anakin did the same.

Somehow, it was easier to sink into the Force with Yoda there beside him. Anakin concentrated on his surroundings. Yoda and Obi-Wan shone like beacons, almost overwhelming in their brightness. Anakin reached past them to the other beings in the archive, the wood of the table, the plants growing in the corner. Down and down to the tiny, microscopic organisms in the air, a swirl of life that always surrounded them. 

He cracked his eyes open with a gasp; he'd never sunk that deep into meditation before. Several minutes had passed and Obi-Wan was long gone, his presence faded completely. Anakin felt an unexpected flush of pleasure.

When he looked over, Yoda was watching him. "Much power, there is, in stillness," he said, "and patience. If at peace with yourself you are, then help, the temple will always provide."

Anakin frowned. That didn't seem much use. When would he ever truly be in danger in the temple? "But what if I'm somewhere else?" 

Yoda shook his head, then raised his walking staff and tapped Anakin's chest. "In here, the temple resides. With the wisdom of all the Jedi who have come before you. Your home, this is now, and with you always, it will be."

Anakin tried not to look as dubious as he felt. The combined wisdom of the Jedi said he shouldn't have been trained at all. It didn't seem likely to provide him much help in the future. 

No doubt when he was older, he would understand.

* * *

Anakin tapped his stylus absently against the data pad, numbers on the screen blurring out of focus. He was supposed to be calculating the vectors for a manual jump across several systems because _a Jedi is always prepared, Anakin,_ but concentration kept alluding him.

Obi-Wan had been at a council meeting for hours. What could they possibly be discussing that would take this long? Anakin privately suspected that some of the council members just liked the sound of their own voices. 

Some day, when Anakin was on the council, there would be much more action and less talking, that was for sure.

When Obi-Wan finally came back, Anakin shot to his feet, abandoning all pretence of studying. "Well?"

Obi-Wan hung up his cloak. He looked tired. "Well, there are tensions brewing on the outer rim. The council is sending a delegation to aid in the negotiations and a team to monitor the situation on the ground on Harridan."

Anakin brightened. _Finally_. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," Obi-Wan said, casting Anakin a knowing look. "For Chandrila. We're to aid with distribution of emergency supplies for Ennth." 

"Chandrila?" Anakin stopped short. Chandrila was in this system, a staging point for various relief efforts around the galaxy. "That's kid stuff. They don't need us for—"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I assure you that the people of Ennth do not consider these supplies to be 'kid stuff,' Anakin. They may be the difference between life and death for many."

Anakin scowled. "Of course, master. But you know what I mean. They don't need a pair of Jedi for that. We should be out helping where our skills are really useful!"

"Anakin—"

"It's not fair!" The words burst out of him, even though he knew as soon as he said them what the response would be. "Tru Veld gets more interesting missions and he's way less powerful in the Force than me!"

"This is not a competition, Anakin," Obi-Wan snapped. Then he sighed, and said, more patiently, "What Tru Veld does or does not do is no reflection on you, nor you on him. His mission is important, but no less so than ours. You must trust that the council knows what its doing."

Anakin bit his lip and nodded. The familiar refrain had been hard enough to believe back when he was struggling to catch up to the other padawans his age. Now that he had started to surpass them, it was all but impossible. But saying _that_ out loud would only get him a lecture on humility. He switched tactics, turning his voice plaintive. "But Master, don't you ever want to see other planets? Do other things?"

"I have seen more than my fair share. And so shall you, in due time."

Anakin glared mutinously. "At this rate, I'll have passed the trials before I leave the system," he muttered.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, running an absent hand through his copper beard. He'd started growing it out over the last few months, and had taken to stroking it whenever he wanted to sound wise. Anakin thought it made him look ridiculous, and wasn't shy about sharing that opinion. 

"Be careful what you wish for, young one. In my experience, off-world travel is nothing but wet and cold or hot and miserable. And mud." Obi-Wan paused, a pained look crossing his face. "Always mud. There is far more drudgery and inconvenience in the galaxy than whatever wild adventures you imagine."

Anakin rolled his eyes. Sometimes he though Obi-Wan had actually forgotten how they'd met. Or what it was like to be young and eager instead of old and interminably stuffy. When Anakin was a knight, he promised himself silently, he would never pass up an opportunity to get out and actually do something.

* * *

"They're sending us to Galidraan," Obi-Wan reported, stepping into the tent with water dripping from is cloak. It had been raining on this miserable planet since they began their ground assault five weeks ago, and it hadn't let up a single day since. 

Anakin looked up from the repairs he was making to one of the perimeter security sensors. The constant moisture in the air was playing hell with all of their equipment. "Galidraan," he said flatly. "I thought we were due for a few days leave on Coruscant."

"We were. But that was before Grievous was spotted in the Thranium sector. And now we've lost communication with Galidraan IV."

Anakin grimaced. There were few things that could make up for losing the chance to sleep in a soft, dry bed, next to his wife. But the prospect of finally capturing Grievous was actually one of them. 

"Don't get your hopes up," Obi-Wan cautioned, half-heartedly scrubbing a towel over his hair. They'd both learned that trying to get dry was a largely futile endeavor on this planet. "There's an excellent chance we'll be walking into a trap, or a very long siege with Grievous nowhere in sight."

"Even a coward like Grievous can't run forever," Anakin said. "And without his pet monster, Dooku won't last another cycle."

Obi-Wan limped over to his cot and sat heavily, pulling one of his boots off with a wet squelch. A clod of mud fell out of it, and his face twisted in disgust. "I won't deny that the prospect of my own bed in the temple sounds more like heaven than I could ever have imagined." 

He'd taken a bad fall three days before, caught in a mudslide in the midst of their final push into the capital, and had been struggling to hide the stiffness in his leg ever since. Anakin pretended not to notice, because noticing would only prompt a fight. Obi-Wan did not suffer coddling—which was particularly hypocritical given his propensity for coddling _Anakin_ whenever he so much as stubbed a toe. 

Still, Anakin had been relieved to know his former master would soon be with the healers on Coruscant. Now they'd have to make due with the medical droids with the fleet.

Anakin thought of Padmé, and their airy apartment in the Senate District. "I know what you mean," he said, and Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. "What?"

"Just remembering a certain young padawan who couldn't wait to get off world."

Anakin smiled despite himself. "I suppose he didn't know how good he had it." 

"Don't worry, Anakin. It may not seem like it now, but this war _will_ come to an end."

But he knew in his heart that it wasn't truly Coruscant that called to him. It was Padmé and Obi-Wan. Ashoka—wherever she was now that she'd left the order (left _him_ , a voice whispered) behind. Even Artoo and Threepio. If he could only have all of them together, safe and healthy. No Jedi, no Senate, no war to distract them... surely then, all the roiling doubt and anger inside him could finally be silenced. He could be the perfect Jedi. He could finally be at peace.

"Yeah, there's nothing quite like home."

* * *

Darth Vader made his way through the familiar halls of the temple, a squad at his back, the rest of the troops fanning out to pick up the stragglers. All around him, he could sense fear and confusion—Jedi, padawans, security forces, staff. Traitors, all. If not in deed, then by ideology. 

He must remember that. They had aligned themselves with a power that was tearing the galaxy apart. It could not be allowed to stand. 

It _would_ not be allowed to stand. 

"Master Skywalker." One of the braver younglings stepped forward. "There are too many of them. What are we going to do?"

Anakin Skywalker would have hesitated. But Anakin Skywalker had made a choice—a terrible choice. A necessary choice. And in that choice, Darth Vader had finally found the peace of certainty. There was no time left for sentimentality or divided loyalties. Not when everything he loved was at stake. The temple, and all within it, must fall.

 _Fight for your home_ , the man formerly known as Anakin Skywalker thought. _As I fight for mine._

He raised his lightsaber.

* * *

"I feel the conflict within you," Luke told him, but he was wrong.

In the end, it came down to this: if the choice was saving Vader or saving Padmés children, then there was no conflict. There was only Anakin Skywalker, breathing his last on the floor of the Death Star. 

A familiar presence enveloped him as he slipped from his son's arms into the embrace of the Force—Obi-Wan's joyful essence, swirling all around him. It was soon followed by Yoda and Qui-Gon, and then many others, a whole line of Jedi reaching out to greet him.

Anakin knew he should be ashamed to come before them, but instead, it was like a great weight was lifting off of him at last.

He felt the warmth of Obi-Wan's smile more than saw it, the impression of a how a smile would feel, if they still had corporeal forms.

"Welcome home, Anakin." 

And finally, he was.


End file.
